


And you know this is it

by rosa_himmelblau



Series: The Roadhouse Blues [26]
Category: Wiseguy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:07:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26085427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosa_himmelblau/pseuds/rosa_himmelblau
Summary: They both love Vinnie. They just don't agree on what's best for him.
Series: The Roadhouse Blues [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1069713





	And you know this is it

Roger Lococco had become a nuisance. More than a nuisance.

Eight times he'd called Rudy and Carlotta Aiuppo's home. Five times Rudy had answered and gotten rid of Lococco. Twice Carlotta had answered "wrong numbers." And once she'd answered and he had hung up without saying anything. Rudy didn't have to hear his voice to know it was Lococco.

Something was going to have to be done, but Rudy didn't know what, and before he could come up with anything, Lococco approached him—approached him while he was with Carlotta! And Rudy knew that was the point, that Carlotta was his vulnerability, and that Lococco knew it, too.

Lococco didn't do anything, he just walked up to them in a parking lot and asked if he could get the correct time. Carlotta, of course, smiled and looked at her watch, told him it was two forty-eight.

Pooch did his job, he got between Lococco and the Aiuppos. And he gave no indication that he knew Lococco, even if it did make him seem a little paranoid, since Lococco hadn't done anything that looked remotely threatening to the naked eye. Carlotta scolded him as Lococco walked harmlessly away.

So Rudy had no choice. He was going to have to meet with Lococco, and when Lococco called that evening, Rudy set up a time (tomorrow, twelve-thirty) and a place (Toomey's, a little restaurant on the opposite side of town from where Carlotta would be spending her afternoon getting her hair done and gossiping with her friends). Lococco said he'd be there and hung up.

When Rudy got the call telling him Vincenzo had been retrieved, Carlotta was away, visiting a cousin. That made it easier to go and bring him home without her knowing about it. He thought that was a good thing, because the account he got was that Vincenzo wasn't very well, was, in fact, so unwell there were doubts about whether he would pull through. Rudy had already been concerned about telling Carlotta about Vincenzo; he didn't intend to tell her they'd gotten her son back, only to have him slip away from her again.

Vincenzo was, indeed, very sick. He was malnourished, and he had contracted some obscure fever that took forever to diagnose. The doctors kept pumping him full of antibiotics, different ones, stronger ones. Eventually the fever went down. Eventually Vincenzo was pronounced healthy enough to be released from the clinic.

Physically healthy, anyway. He was scared to death, rambling, things that made no sense—but Rudy listened to him, and one thing was very clear: more than the men that abducted him, Vincenzo was afraid of the federal government.

Janet Getzloff, he'd mentioned; a General Masters, an Admiral Strichen. Rudy didn't know those last two, but Janet Getzloff had been a senator. "Inside the White House," he'd said, and, "Look what they did to Kay Gallagher." Rudy had no idea who Kay Gallagher was, either.

And Daryl Elias, former director of the Organized Crime Bureau, Vincenzo said he'd had him locked up. And Paul Beckstead, who had been director at the time of Vincenzo's disappearance—nothing he said about him was specific, but his name always came up. They had each been Vincenzo's boss.

Rudy had no way to objectively evaluate Vincenzo's fears. He could hardly call up the Attorney General and ask if the former director of the OCB was part of a plot to have one of its agents abducted. If what Vincenzo was saying was true, who could Rudy trust? He knew that Vincenzo considered Frank McPike a trusted friend, and he had no doubt that McPike felt the same way. But how far that loyalty went, Rudy couldn't be sure, and even more importantly, how much could he trust McPike's judgement? Would he believe the possibility that his superiors were involved in Vincenzo's abduction, and keep his whereabouts to himself?

So Rudy put his trust in the men he knew personally, the ones who were indebted to him, the ones who knew what the repercussions would be if they betrayed him.

The plan had been to let Vincenzo make his own decisions when he was healthy enough to do so. And, technically, that was exactly what had happened, since wherever he was, Vincenzo was presumably making his own decisions. Salvatore said he was, anyway, and Rudy had a difficult time imagining a scenario in which Salvatore was keeping Vincenzo from doing what he wanted.

Those decisions hadn't included contacting McPike. That didn't mean that Rudy had been right in the decision he'd made, but it didn't mean he'd been wrong, either. It just meant that Vincenzo didn't want McPike to know where he was—but then, he didn't want Rudy to know, either. It was all baffling and infuriating.

Why was Vincenzo so angry with him? Was it still because of the Commission? Was it because of some lie Salvatore had told him?

No, he'd been angry before that, and he'd seemed especially angry with Rudy, which made no sense.

And Rudy had come to the conclusion that he hated all of Vincenzo's friends. Salvatore, for obvious reasons, but Lococco was just as bad, treating him like an annoying telemarketer when he'd wanted to be kept informed. And since he apparently couldn't trust McPike—

Rudy had botched this, he'd botched it in several conflicting ways that he couldn't untangle because it seemed that there was something about it all that he didn't understand. That was the real reason he went to have lunch with Lococco.

Rudy got there early, but it wasn't early enough; Lococco had already chosen a table, and ordered a pot of tea and—peach pie? Lococco was already eating his piece, and another piece, with a scoop of melty vanilla ice cream, was sitting in Rudy's place. If this was Lococco's way of disorienting him, it was marginally effective. Rudy felt as though he'd walked in in the middle of the wrong movie.

He took his seat—the one he would have chosen had he arrived before Lococco, the one that put his back to the wall, watching as Lococco poured him a cup of tea.

"You really should eat your pie before the ice cream melts anymore," Lococco said. He offered Rudy the sugar for his tea, and Rudy thanked him, but he wasn't going to let himself be thrown off his stride.

"I don't like being threatened, Mr. Lococco."

"You mean yesterday? Yesterday wasn't a threat. You're not going to eat that, are you?" he asked, motioning to the pie, which he took without waiting for an answer. "To me, making a threat is nothing more than giving your target a warning, and I don't give warnings."

"Then what do you want?"

"We agreed that I would assess Vince's situation and extract him if I thought it was in his best interest." He took sip of his tea. "Of course, I knew you didn't care what I thought and that once you knew where Vince was, you'd do whatever you damn well felt like doing."

There was no reprobation in Lococco's tone; he was simply stating fact. Rudy stirred his tea, not arguing with him.

"But that doesn't mean you don't have to listen to what I think," Lococco added.

"Why should I listen to you?" Rudy asked.

Lococco nodded. "That’s a good question. I guess the best reason is, I know Vince, and I know what’s going on with him. Is there anybody else you know who can say that?"

Unfortunately, Lococco was right about that.

"All right," Rudy said, trying not to sound resistant.

"I know you're planning to rescue Vince from Steelgrave's evil clutches. And I know whatever your plan is, you think Steelgrave's your problem, that he's the one standing in the way of taking Vince wherever you're planning to take him. But you're wrong. Vince is your problem. Vince is so mad at you—he’s so fucking furious with you, I doubt you could have a five minute conversation with him."

"Why?" Rudy asked. He hadn’t meant to, certainly he hadn't meant to let his pain show, but it hurt that Vincenzo was so angry with him he wouldn’t even speak to him. "Why should he be so angry with me? I rescued him!"

"It’s not just you," Lococco said consolingly. "He's mad as hell at all of us. Mostly he’s mad at his mother, but he can’t let himself be—"

Now Rudy was even more perplexed. "Why should—why should he be angry at his mother?"

"Oh, come on, how did he get into this mess? He was trying to be a hero for Mama, but instead he got to be a dead failure. If he could cut loose and really be mad at her, he would, but he can’t, so he’s redirecting his anger at the people it’s safe to be mad at: me and Frank, but especially you."

"I rescued him!" Rudy repeated, realized his voice had been a little loud, and repeated himself, more softly. "I rescued him."

"Yeah, you did. Good job." And Lococco wasn't being sarcastic. "But you’re also married to his mother, and he's using you as a stand-in for her. He can rant at you and not feel that primal guilt. Do you know anything about depression?" Lococco asked, seeming to change the subject.

Rudy shook his head. "Not really."

"It’s fueled by anger. When you can’t feel pleasure, the next best thing is anger. Rage at least gives you some energy, it gives you something to feel that isn’t just half-numb pain. Especially when you can't find energy any other way."

Rudy was getting impatient. "It surprises me, Mr. Lococco, that you know so much about abnormal psychology."

"I worked for Mel Profitt," Lococco said. "Believe me, if you didn’t start off knowing something about abnormal psychology, you learned pretty quick—or you ended up in one of those funny white coats."

Rudy really couldn't argue with that. "What does this have to do with Vincenzo?"

"Vinnie's depressed. He feels like a failure and he doesn’t like it. It pisses him off, so he takes it out on whoever’s available who can handle it. That’s one thing in Steelgrave’s favor: he can handle it easily. But you're not interested in my opinion of the situation, you just want Vince out of it. Since I know the only way to stop you would be to kill you—or maybe permanently cripple you, and I've decided not to do that—"

Rudy had to interrupt. "Have you? And why is that?"

"Because it would be just as bad for Vince. He'd be sure to hear about it, and he'd wind up looking after his mother, and she wouldn't let him keep Steelgrave, either."

"So you've decided not to kill me," Rudy said, not without a certain amusement.

"Or cripple you," Lococco said. He wasn't kidding.

"I'm relieved," Rudy said

"But in return, I expect you to listen to my plan."

Rudy poured himself some more tea. "Go on."

"The cleanest way is for me to go to Steelgrave's office and take him out. He won't be expecting it, and I'm familiar with La Mano Blanco's methods—enough to convince Vinnie, anyway, when he finds the body."

Rudy was having trouble following what Lococco was saying. It wasn't that he didn't understand the words, or what they added up to, but how was it possible that Vincenzo's friend was suggesting this? He was still talking, but Rudy wasn't hearing him. "I can't see that it's necessary to dispatch Salvatore so—permanently," he interrupted. Not that he hadn't considered it himself, more than once, but Lococco's plan seemed appallingly cold-blooded coming from a friend of Vincenzo's.

Lococco shrugged. "It's possible Steelgrave could be bought off, made to simply disappear; I didn't realize he meant so much to you. I was thinking of Vince's well-being."

In the old days, nobody talked to Rafael Aiuppo in that insolent tone. Now, apparently, everybody did. Rudy didn't care for the change. He was not some old man to be pushed around. "How is killing Salvatore in Vincenzo's best interest?" he asked coldly. As he was saying the words, Rudy realized how bizarre this conversation really was. For seventy or so years he'd talked about a whole range of activities that fell outside the bounds of the law, including murder—but always there were euphemisms for these activities, phrases used for plausible deniability, as the politicians called it. Now Rudy was saying the words flat-out, afraid of a misunderstanding.

"Let's get this straight," Lococco said. "We aren't talking about Vince's best interest. We're talking about the best strategy for getting him away from Steelgrave."

"Yes, yes," Rudy waved this away. "And why is it necessary to kill Salvatore to do that?" he asked.

"Because Vince needs to see the body. He needs to know that Steelgrave's dead, there can't be any doubt in his mind, not after last time. If Steelgrave just disappears, Vince is going to want to look for him, and if he doesn't find him, he'll spend the rest of his life wondering what happened to him. I think we can agree that that would not be in Vince's best interest."

Rudy nodded. Truth be told, that hadn't even occurred to him.

"Once Steelgrave is no more, and with Vince believing La Mano Blanco is after him again, he's sure to contact somebody. It might not be you, but that doesn't really matter, does it? You just want him away from Steelgrave, right? So if he calls me, or he calls Frank, that works out OK, right?"

Again Rudy nodded, though he didn't really like the sound of this. "I don't understand why you feel it needs to be so—dramatic," he said.

"It needs to be dramatic because it's an act," Lococco said. "The truth is, Vinnie's already as safe as he's going to get. Just killing Steelgrave would destabilize him, but it might not push him in any direction, and I don't think he'll survive on his own. The threat of La Mano Blanco will push him in some direction. My bet is that it'll be towards me, since he knows I can keep him safe, and the last thing he wants to do is drag Frank into this. He's already afraid for his safety—"

"Vincenzo is afraid for Frank's safety?" Rudy asked. "That's why he hasn't contacted him?"

Lococco nodded. "Of course, what did you think?" It was a rhetorical question; Lococco went on without a pause. "I'll be keeping an eye on him, so whatever happens, I'll make sure he gets the help he'll need."

"You would do this thing to your friend?" Rudy asked, incredulous. "Why would you do that?"

"You want a limb amputated, and your plan is to hack away with a rusty fork. It might work, it might not, but it will be messy, Vince will get hurt. My plan is a surgical removal because if you want a limb removed, that's how you do it. The only question is whether it's a necessary amputation, and you've already made up your mind about that."

And suddenly Rudy wondered: did he know what he was doing? Did he understand the situation? The truth was, Rudy had never been more confused about a problem. Vincenzo was so angry with him, he wouldn't even speak to him, while Salvatore still seemed to want into his good graces. Rudy didn't understand either one of them. Frank McPike either couldn't be trusted or Vincenzo was worrying about his safety, Rudy had no idea which was true. And Roger Lococco, who was Vincenzo's trusted friend, was talking about pushing him into some kind of severe emotional crisis—for his own good.

"I know, you don't like this at all. But you aren't going to be able to convince Vince to leave Steelgrave, and even if you could—best case scenario, you get Vince out without hurting him or Steelgrave—well, personally, I don't think Steelgrave will engage unless Vince does something that backs them into a corner. But if you don't dispatch Steelgrave, what's to keep them from getting together again? Are you going to lock Vince up like Boo Radley? And when you bring him home, what are you going to tell his mother? He's put the weight back on and then some, so what's the story going to be, that he was held prisoner in a Chinese bakery? And what's going to make Vince go along with it—particularly if you've killed his boyfriend? What's going to keep him from walking in the front door of your happy home and telling your wife just where he's been, who he's been with, and what he's been doing—and who got Steelgrave for him in the first place? If you screw up his life, what's to keep him from blowing your marriage sky-high?"

Lococco motioned to the waitress, who brought them another pot of hot water. "Any of that peach pie left?" he asked her.

"No, but we have a fresh-baked apple," she said, and Roger ordered two pieces of apple pie ala mode. They sat in silence while they waited for their pie, Roger going about the business of making more tea.

"You don't believe this amputation is necessary," Rudy said. The pie was very fresh; it was so warm it was turning the ice cream to mush.

"You don't care what I believe," Lococco said. He refilled Rudy's cup.

"How is he?" Rudy asked. Lococco had told him before, but he needed to hear it again.

"Like I said, he's depressed," Lococco said. "He could use some help, but he knows that. Steelgrave handles him pretty well. He doesn’t seem to get bogged down in it, anyway. If Frank were in his position, they’d both have drowned by now. That’s why I think being with Steelgrave’s good for him."

"Is he happy?" Rudy asked. He stabbed his fork into one of the apple slices leaking out the side of his pie, and put it in his mouth.

"Like I said, he's depressed," Roger repeated patiently. "He's got a lot to be depressed about. Maybe now that they can settle, it'll be easier for him to pinpoint the problem, see if it's something he can struggle out of or if he needs help with it. He doesn't want to die, if that's what you're asking."

Rudy nodded, stabbed at another apple slice, then put down his fork.

He could not do this thing to Vincenzo. He didn't know if he was right or wrong, but he couldn't do it.

"Leave them alone," he said, and just in case he hadn't been clear enough, "Don't do anything. Just leave them be."

Lococco nodded, pouring himself some more tea.


End file.
